


Bad Decisions

by Rinienne



Series: Cloudy with a Chance of Accidentally Falling in Love [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bad Ideas, Booty Calls, Bottom Sam, M/M, Mistrust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinienne/pseuds/Rinienne
Summary: Sam is well aware the idea forming in his head is a bad one, but he is drunk, and he is horny, and he simply can't get what happened between him and Lucifer out of his head.





	Bad Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by [Lucifers-perfect-angel](https://lucifers-perfect-angel.tumblr.com/)  
> Check out the [Series Cover](https://i.imgur.com/75ceqTD.jpg)

The bar was noisy. The music was mixing with the voices of people trying to talk over each-other, until it all turned into a monotone cacophony. It wasn’t particularly bad, at least not worse than in any other establishment of this kind, but it was getting on Sam’s nerves, making it difficult to concentrate, work.

The hunter was fairly sure that by the end of the evening he was going to get a horrible headache. Then again, a headache would’ve been a preferable alternative to thinking too much. Perhaps, it could even help him falling asleep faster.

“There have been several strange murders in Utah, also people disappearing in the daylight in Pennsylvania,” he said, needing to raise his voice to make himself heard.

Dean gave him a leveled stare, then took a slow sip from his beer without breaking the eye contact. “Sammy, did you hit your head a little too hard again?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

There was a scrape on the side of his face, and the hand he used to hold his beer was bandaged after the angry spirit they fought decided to throw him into the pyre of own burning bones before dissipating out of existence. Claw marks were decorating the side of Dean’s neck, but those ones were left by a tiny tabby monster that lived in the house of one of the victims. On top of that, the older hunter looked tired.

Sam didn’t feel much better than Dean looked. He got his own share of scrapes and bruises from the fight (minus the cat related ones, as the feline took a better liking to him,) and his body ached from both pain and fatigue. A part of him really wanted to close his laptop and enjoy the evening, before returning to the motel and falling asleep for at least ten hours.

Except Sam knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. His thoughts were going to wander again, and he was going to remember the warmth of Lucifer’s body, the prickle of his stubble against own lips, the expression on the archangel’s face when he—

He shook his head almost violently, trying to stop his thoughts from continuing going into that direction. He was thankful for the dull illumination in the bar which covered up the heat that rose to his cheeks. “I just feel a little restless,” he shrugged, trying to pretend he was full of energy and enthusiasm and not trying to bury himself in work, until literally passing out from exhaustion.

“Mhmm, sure,” Dean nodded, looking at him suspiciously, as if waiting for his brother to say something.

Sometimes Sam felt as if he knew. As if Dean was able to look at him and see everything that transpired between him and Lucifer in vivid details. But that was impossible. Of course, the archangel had left a few marks on the hunter’s body: some scratches on his back, a hickey over his collarbone, but Sam was sure he’d hid it well. There used to be a crescent shaped bruise on his lower lip where Lucifer had bitten him, but it was nearly not enough to jump into conclusions.

“We still don’t have everything for opening the portal, so why not helping a few people?” Sam shrugged trying to sound casual.

“Because, Sammy. See, it’s usually me who tries to pull shit like that, so I’m pretty much proficient in working and drinking myself to sleep. Your go-to coping method is staying in bed, cuddling with your blankie until noon,” he added gesturing in Sam’s general direction. “So I’m afraid you might be unprepared for this kind of hardship.”

Sam blinked a few times looking at his brother in confusion. “Wow, what?”

“What I meant, is you’re gonna kill both of us,” Dean replied bringing his bottle to his lips again and taking another sip. Then his expression turned a little mischievous and his eyes slid somewhere past Sam. “But I totally know what you need. There this chick, who's been checking you out half the evening. She’ll totally help you get your mind off things,” he grinned widely. “I bet you can’t even remember the last time you got laid.”

Sam could. Up to the exact date and time, but that was exactly his problem. Yet, it wasn’t like he could tell it to his brother, so he simply sighed. 

He didn’t want a one night stand. Thoughts about yet another random woman with a probably fake name made him uncomfortable, almost sick to his stomach, but he needed a distraction. He also needed an outlet for his sexual frustration — it had been over three weeks since he ended up in bed with Lucifer, and he hadn’t touched himself ever since, too afraid to end up thinking about the archangel.

Looking down at his own bottle of beer which he hadn’t even touched yet, Sam bit his lower lip. “I guess you’re right,” he nodded and closed his laptop, stuffing it into a messenger bag.

This time his brother practically beamed at him. “Great! Just give me a head start, I’ll go grab my stuff from our room and get myself a different one,” he said before finishing his beer in a single gulp.

Dean got up and took his bag, gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder and was gone so fast, Sam didn’t even have time to process it. There was this feeling in him again, loneliness that crawled under his skin, making him want to curl into a ball. It was easier with Dean around, and easier in a place with so many people, but it couldn’t last. Sooner or later he was going to be left alone again, muss over things he knew he shouldn't.

Sam thought about just leaving. Perhaps, going for a walk somewhere, breathing fresh air of the early spring.

“Hi! I see your friend decided to disappear,” came a sweet voice from next to Sam. “Care if I join?”

Sam glanced up and saw the woman Dean most likely meant earlier. Even if it wasn’t her, it didn’t really matter. She was beautiful, young, not too tall, with long, dark-chestnut hair and brown eyes, shades of which Sam couldn’t distinguish because the illumination in the bar was poor. All and all, she was the type of women Sam found particularly attractive, and maybe it was exactly what he needed right now.

“Of course,” he smiled to her, trying to suppress an urge to pull out salt and silver knife to test if she wasn’t a monster or a demon. To tell the truth, part of him wanted her to be one, so he would have a reason to back out, but he doubted it was the case.

They had a few cocktails. It wasn’t enough to get Sam completely drunk, but he became tipsy and warm all over. The level of his inhibition dropped, and he found himself care less about things he wanted to get out of his head.

They didn’t talk a lot, mostly about trivial things. The hunter was sure that at some point she told him her name, yet he’d forgotten it before she even asked if he wanted to get out.

The motel he and Dean stayed at was on the other side of a road from the bar. The night was a little cool, and the sky was covered in heavy clouds, as if ready to tear open any moment. While it looked rather stormy, there was nothing but light drizzle. The alcohol helped too, both with the uncomfortable temperature and the humidity, making the short trip to the room less uncomfortable.

The girl wasn’t even reaching his shoulders, but the moment the door closed behind them, she pushed the hunter against a wall. Having to stand on her tiptoes, she pulled him down, her lips clashing with Sam’s.

The warmth of the tipsiness turned into the heat of arousal almost immediately, spreading through Sam’s body, making him want to respond, to kiss her deeply and tear off her clothes, push her onto the bed and take her roughly. There was a taste of cigarettes in her mouth, and her perfume was so sweet, it was repulsing. Yet, it wasn’t what made Sam stumble. As he rubbed his cheek against hers, he found himself wishing to feel stubble there, but her skin was smooth and soft.

It felt wrong, so wrong, Sam found himself pushing the girl away. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked looking at him confused. Her plump lips were parted, and she was still breathing fast. Her eyes were burning with lust, and made Sam ponder about giving this another try.

“No, I’m...” he shook his head, making a step to the side and away, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Her expression was confused at first, then it turned a little angry, frustrated. Still, she nodded in response and, without saying a single word, picked up the purse that fell onto the floor and hurriedly proceeded towards the exit.

The door behind her slammed shut, and Sam was left standing alone in a motel room.

Everything around the hunter was spinning, and he was sure it had nothing to do with alcohol. He wanted to crawl out of his skin, because he couldn’t understand himself anymore, couldn’t relax enough for his brain to stop overworking. His thoughts were a mess, he himself was an even bigger mess, and nothing made any resemblance of sense.

He wanted to cry, but his eyes felt full of sand, dry and irritated. He rubbed them in attempt to ease discomfort, but it did nothing to help. Out of frustration he kicked a chair, and it almost broke on the impact with the floor. It didn’t feel like enough, so he pushed old books, a lamp, even hi own bag with the laptop from the table, not even caring that he could break it.

Everything he could lift in the room, Sam threw around, but it didn’t make him feel better. There was a bottle of whiskey in the fridge, he remembered Dean putting it there to cool down last night, so he went for it instead. Getting drunk wasn’t his usual way of dealing with sour mood, but he was lost and frustrated and completely alone, so he didn’t care. Opening the bottle he started to gulp it down, not even bothering with a glass. It burned in his throat, but he welcomed the sensation and the horrible, bitter taste it had after several fruit flavored cocktails. 

The stronger alcohol was spreading around his system fast, making his muscles hum, the images before his eyes float about. Standing in the middle of the room he trashed, Sam was looking around until his eyes settled on one of the two queen beds, and his cheeks burned from an idea.

It was a horrible one, and Sam was going to regret it even more than he regretted what happened three weeks ago, but he was more than a little drunk by now and very horny.

Sam was going insane. It was the only explanation of why he closed his eyes and started to pray. “Lucifer,” he whispered, and in the quiet of the room it sounded like a thunderclap. The feeling of the name on his tongue was strange in the context, and it made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t decide was unpleasant or not. “This should work for ya, right? Praying ‘n stuff. I’m currently in Glenrock, Wyoming, East Bend Inn... room 41.”

The chances of Lucifer appearing were small, considering the last time they saw each-other, the archangel ended up thinking Sam was trying to kill him. The hunter knew it would be for the best if he didn’t, but he still found himself shivering in nervous anticipation, wishing that he did.

In the first several moments nothing happened. Sam was almost ready to shake his head and just climb into the bed and take care of his arousal on his own. Then he felt a strong puff of air on his skin, heard a sound of large wings flap.

“Well, well, well, look who calls me so unexpectedly,” was the first thing out of Lucifer’s mouth, a self satisfying smirk on his face. His tone was cheerful, and he looked amused, but his posture was tense, arms crossed over his chest, and he was looking at the hunter unsure. “Come on, Sammy, where did you spill the holy fire, I’ll do you a favor and go stand in the middle,” he said spreading his arms.

Sam’s heart began beating faster in his chest. He gulped and took a slow deep breath to calm himself. “I... wasn’t trying to kill you the last time,” he said, deciding trying to explain himself was a good conversation starter, surprised at the same time, his voice wasn’t slurring. It was difficult to look at the archangel directly, but he tried his best anyway.

“I guessed it,” Lucifer chuckled and, to Sam’s complete surprise, turned to look away, at the mess the hunter turned the room into. “Well, after replaying it a few times in my head, anyway. Because no-one with a murderous intent looks like a deer in headlights. Nice decor, by the way,” he added casually, pointing around himself.

Sam forced his expression to stay neutral, trying not to show his curiosity, yet he doubted it was successful. Lucifer just admitted he thought about their encounter, was replaying it in his mind, and Sam wondered if he was thinking about everything else too. If he, perhaps, was in a similar to the hunter’s situation, unable to get it all out of his mind. If he was remembering them in bed, lost in each other’s touch, if that memory had a similar effect on the archangel it had on Sam.

“Sooo,” Lucifer continued meanwhile, “I’m a very busy angel now, and there must be a reason you called me here.”

Sam didn't answer him, at least not verbally. Instead, he walked to him, slowly, measurly. His legs felt wobbly, and his heart felt as if it was going to jump out of his chest, but when he looked at the archangel, he saw uncertainty in his expression too, which reassured him.

“Sam,” Lucifer exhaled as he hunter found himself standing next to him, in the archangel’s personal space. Lifting his head up, he looked Sam in the eyes and licked his lips. Yet, he made no attempts of moving neither away, nor closer.

“Come to bed with me,” Sam whispered, bringing his palm to cup the archangel’s face, fingers rubbing against his short beard.

Lucifer looked at him blankly, then scoffed. “A booty call prayer? Really? Wow, that’s new,” he nodded before adding more seriously, “you smell of booze, cheap feminine perfume and there’s lipstick all over your face.” 

The hunter felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment and reached to wipe his mouth. The gesture left red mark on his sleeve, but he doubted he managed to get it all.

Lucifer watched him closely and seemed a little angry, yet Sam couldn’t tell for sure what was the reason for it. Surely not jealousy. “Umm, nothing happened with her,” he muttered nonetheless, trying to wipe even more of the evidence of his short encounter from his face.

“I don’t care,” Lucifer replied coldly.

Just this handful of words felt like an ice dagger that pierced through Sam’s chest. He found himself wishing Lucifer cared, was jealous to think the hunter had someone. It almost made him angry again, but he pushed the feeling away, trying to concentrate on other things.

His eyes slid down Lucifer’s lips, and he remembered how much in the mood he still was. Making the last step towards the archangel, Sam grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, leant in and kissed Lucifer. On a corner of his mind a thought of being killed for such a transgression crossed his mind, but he ignored it too. Instead, he concentrated on the already familiar sensation, moving his lips hungrily against the archangel’s soft, but prickly from the stubble mouth.

Lucifer didn’t answer his kiss, he just stood there not even moving, and it made Sam’s heart sink even further, made him even more miserable. Feeling tears rising to his eyes, he pulled away. “Go to hell,” he muttered trying to smack Lucifer’s shoulder with his hand, and the sudden movement made his head spin a little too hard.

“Wow, Sammy, that’s a new one. How long did it take to come up with it?” Lucifer clicked his tongue. The archangel was obviously trying to be sarcastic, but either because his own emotions were conflicted, or because Sam was too inebriated, his expression didn’t seem to match his words.

“Screw you,” Sam muttered and was almost ready to turn around, when Lucifer’s hand rose to his forehead

A light touched Sam, starting to spread from his head to all around his body, engulfing him completely, yet not harming. It felt very similar to when Castiel was healing him, but this energy was cooler and, for some reason, gentler. The next moment his mind cleared, and all the haze of alcoholic intoxication was gone. He felt clean too, as if he just took a good shower, and changed into fresh clothes, and every part of him that hurt after the recent hunt was cured.

“I don’t think so,” Lucifer said in a raspy voice. “If anyone gets screwed tonight, that would be you.”

Sam found himself very sober, staring Lucifer in the eyes, realizing suddenly what he’d just done. He felt as if ground cracked under his feet, and he was sent flying somewhere to the depth of Hell. Then he found himself wishing for that to really happen, because surely his embarrassment was worse than anything Hell had to offer.

He wanted to take it all back, ask the archangel to leave. He opened his mouth wanting to tell him it was a stupid mistake and ask him to forget, add it to the ever-growing list of things that needed to be never spoken about.

“Sam, just so you know, I think this is a horrible idea. The worst,” Lucifer exhaled interrupting Sam’s attempt at producing words. The archangel sounded suddenly very serious. Perhaps, the most serious Sam had ever heard him to be.

“Yeah,” the hunter agreed, not entirely sure what he meant.

There was a short huff from Lucifer, his eyes narrowing. He remained still for several of the longest moments of Sam’s life, his eyes studying the hunter’s face. And then all hell broke loose, because Lucifer shoved him, hard.

Sam though the archangel was pushing him away, but Lucifer followed him, his open mouth falling back onto Sam’s lips, his tongue thrusting inside unceremoniously and with no warning. One of Lucifer’s hand landed on Sam’s buttock, giving it a rough, almost painful squeeze, preventing, at the same time, Sam from falling backwards from the unexpectancy of the assault.

Sam was so surprised by Lucifer’s actions, that for a moment he forgot how to breath. He pondered about trying to entangle himself from the archangel’s arms, ask him to stop. It was a mistake to do this the first time around, even a greater mistake was to repeat it, and two wrongs surely weren’t making it right.

Except Lucifer’s lips felt really right, more right that they had any reason to be, and after only a second of hesitation, Sam found himself giving in, answering the kiss in the same hungry manner, his tongue intertwining with Lucifer’s.

The archangel didn’t taste like ice cream this time, but neither there was bitterness of cigarette smoke. His mouth was a little cooler than Sam remembered, but he found it refreshing, perfect. Not concerning how he sounded, he moaned into Lucifer’s mouth and felt the archangel grin into the kiss.

Sam thought that he should’ve expected it, but with his powers intact, Lucifer was very strong. Barely needing to strain a muscle, he lifted the hunter up and carried him towards the bed. Before Sam knew it, he found himself falling onto the mattress.

Lucifer stood above him, looking him up and down with hungry eyes. His hands rose to discard own jacket, before reaching for his white t-shirt and pulling it off his shoulders too.

“You know, the last time I was at disadvantage. Human reactions and all,” he groaned.

As Sam watched Lucifer undress, it occurred to him that their first time he hadn’t really had a chance to look at the archangel's vessel. Or, when he had, his mind was too preoccupied with self loathing to really take a note.

The body Lucifer occupied wasn’t young, but it was fit, taken good care of, and Sam could imagine many people would find him incredibly attractive. Yet, if there was an exact opposite to the hunter’s sexual preference, he was looking at it. In any other circumstances he doubted he would even glance at someone like this twice, but as his eyes was running up and down Lucifer’s frame, he found himself wanting to touch it, run his fingers, his tongue over the skin.

Sam was really going insane. It was the only logical explanation.

“And now?” he breathed out, remembering Lucifer talking. “Is it different now?”

“Very.”

Sam wanted to ask what the difference was, whether or not angel could even experience sexual pleasure the same way. He didn’t have time to think how to phrase the question, because the next instance the archangel was on him, pinning him down to the mattress with the weight of own body. His lips returned to kiss the hunter again, hungrily, desperately, even if still rather clumsily.

There was the same amount of urgency like the last time, but it was also different. Lucifer’s touches were gentle, but he acted bolder, and there was an undeniable streak of dominance in his every movement. It reminded Sam he didn’t really think it all through, and it was made even more evident when he tried to roll them around, but found himself physically incapable of doing it.

He almost started to panic realizing Lucifer could do anything to him, and he simply wouldn’t have enough strength to stop it. Yet, the moment the thought crossed his mind, he heard the archangel exhale and felt the hold on him loosening.

Lucifer rose up to look at him, and the hunter understood he was given a chance to protest, to put a stop to it if he so desired. He probably should've done it, at least he should've fought for dominance, because Sam wasn’t meek by any standards. But he also just wanted to let go and do nothing, not worry about consequences, or be judged for for his momentary weakness.

Breathing in and out slowly, he reached out and hooked his hand around Lucifer’s neck, pulling him back towards himself, kissing him almost angrily, because nothing else mattered at the moment, because he didn’t have to uphold to any standards, and whichever one of them was more assertive had no real meaning.

They had to pull apart to finish undressing. Lucifer was tugging off his shirts in hurry, not even attempting to hide how desperate he was to get to the skin underneath. The entire time, he was looking at Sam like no-one else did. Granted, there was desire in his expression, and it was something Sam had seen before in his lovers, but there was wonder in them too. Lucifer was looking at him as if he was unwrapping a gift and couldn’t believe there was something so precious beneath the inconspicuous paper. 

Sam’s shirts, his jeans ended up somewhere on the floor, and Lucifer’s mouth landed onto the hunter’s jaw, his hands touching Sam as if he couldn’t get enough of him. His fingers were a little cold, but every inch of the hunter’s skin they brushed against felt like burning. From the his neck, they moved to his chest, starting to play with Sam’s nipples, leaving him almost gasping for air, hips rolling upwards to shamelessly grind against Lucifer’s leg.

Murmuring something soft, the archangel moved to press his own erection against Sam, and the sensation made the hunter shiver, his own desire burning hot in the pit of his stomach. They were not doing this for long, and yet Sam felt he was ready to overflow with arousal, understanding he wasn’t going to last at all tonight.

There were still layers between them, and suddenly Sam found himself wishing there weren’t, wanting to feel Lucifer’s bare skin against his own, experience the heat of his length against his palm, or go even further and find out the taste of it. And more than that, Sam found himself wanting to know how would it feel...

No matter Lucifer taking the obvious lead, this particular thought came completely out of nowhere. Sam’s face burned, and he let out a low, quet moan. It surprised him to hear the archangel echoing the sound with a short gasp of his own, and the expression on his face told the hunter his patience was also wearing thin.

“Sam,” he said, and the name was almost a growl, “I want to be inside of you.”

The hunter couldn’t stop himself from snorting, because no matter how drastically the nature of their interaction changed, this wasn’t a new idea. Yet, it was also a hysterical reaction more than anything else. There was fear in him, a lot of it. He needed to say no, because no matter how the hunter looked at it, Lucifer was still his enemy, and giving up control to this extent wasn’t something he wanted. “Would you agree to switch afterwards?” he asked.

“No,” Lucifer replied, and there was no hesitation in him, he didn’t even think about it.

“And if I say no?”

“You won’t. Not this time. You want it.”

What Sam wanted was to roll his eyes, but he found himself shivering instead. This was a bad idea, all of it, starting with listening to Dean and trying to bring random woman to their motel room, and ending with drinking and calling Lucifer instead. No, it all started even before that, three weeks ago, when Sam decided making out with the devil was an ok thing to do. 

“Convince me,” he found himself telling Lucifer instead, a challenge in his voice.

Immediately, Sam realized he messed up again. Not only it was completely the opposite of what he intended to say, the archangel also looked at him with such determination the hunter understood he lost this fight before it even started.

Then again, it wasn’t all bad, because the next moment Lucifer’s hands were on the hem of his underwear. He didn’t waste time with pulling them off, just tore the fabric apart without an effort, and by all means that shouldn’t have been such a turn on, but it was, and there was nothing Sam could do about it.

Then the hunter’s brain shorted out for a moment, because a mouth that was somehow cool and warm at the same time ended up around him. There was no slow gentleness in the archangel’s movements, no teasing kisses or wet licks over the shaft. He simply took as much of Sam as he could and, to the hunter’s complete astonishment, continued to take even more, until Sam felt himself sinking into his throat and almost screamed from both pleasure and astonishment.

Lucifer started to move, slow at first, then picking up the pace. It was good, but also uncoordinated and clumsy. Lucifer even scrapped him with his teeth a few times. It most definitely felt like an accident, and Sam found himself wondering if the archangel had ever done this before. It was unreasonable, but he hopped Lucifer hadn’t, because there was something utterly hot in the idea of being the first person the devil had ever given a head to.

His line of thought was interrupted by a slick finger probing at the places no-one ever paid attention to, and Sam was only able to notice it, when it started to push inside. He yelped from the surprise, but forced himself to relax, curious about the new sensation.

It was strange, unfamiliar, and felt nothing like Sam thought it would. There was no pain, no burn, not even discomfort, yet he couldn’t call it pleasurable either. It didn’t change when Lucifer added the second finger, continuing to be just a weird presence more than anything else.

At the same time, without even realizing it, Sam found himself grabbing into the archangel’s messy blond hair and moving his hips less to sink deeper into the archangel’s mouth and more onto his fingers, soft sounds escaping him with every movement. Way too soon the hunter found himself getting close.

It stopped as suddenly as it started. Lucifer moved away making Sam want to whine at the loss, which he thankfully was able to suppress, not ready to lose the last bit of his dignity. He saw the archangel pulling his own jeans and underwear down, and the next instance, he was lifting the hunter by the hips, positioning himself between Sam’s legs, his somehow already slick tip poking at the hunter’s entrance.

“Ugh, I’m not an expert, but I feel like there should've been more preparation,” Sam gasped, trying to ignore his own body that was screaming at him to shut up and go along with whatever.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucifer replied and pushed in, sheathing himself completely in a single, quick thrust.

There was a tiny part of a second when it hurt. Sam thought that it even hurt a lot, but he honestly couldn’t tell for sure, because as soon as it happened, Lucifer’s hands started to glow and the cool, healing light spread around Sam’s body once again, taking all of the pain away. That left him with a sensation of incredible fullness, and pressure, and stretching in places Sam had no idea he could feel before.

When Lucifer started to move, Sam was no longer able to think. Instead, he felt like he was floating in emptiness, weightless. His skin felt as if becoming too tight for him, and there was a distant ringing in his ears. Every part of his body was tingling with a sensation he couldn’t decide if he liked or hated, but it was probably both.

He felt the archangel shift, leaning forward to recapture the hunter’s lips, and Sam grabbed into him, grateful to have something to hold onto, because he was sure he could drown, lose himself forever otherwise.

He wanted to see Lucifer’s expression, because he remembered enjoying looking at it the last time. Yet, his thoughts were scattering around, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything, too distracted by the weight of the archangel’s body, his smell, the sensation of his lips against Sam’s mouth, the sounds he was making.

His own orgasm took Sam completely by surprise. It felt like he was on the edge for hours, and it only continued to build up, until his entire body shook violently. It was different from any other releases he’d ever had. It wasn’t sharp, or particularly strong, but it went and went, Sam’s muscles spasming uncontrollably all around his body, until he wanted to beg for it to stop.

Above him, he heard Lucifer crying out, slamming into Sam one last time, almost roughly, almost painfully, and then he stilled too, shaking under the hunter’s touch. Another moment passed, and his body went slack, the archangel practically collapsing on Sam. He panted harshly against the hunter’s neck, but soon his breathing started to even out, inhumanly fast. Carefully, he slipped out of Sam, but remained laying on top of him.

The hunter couldn’t tell how long they stayed like that, holding each-other. Lucifer was much heavier than he was used to, but Sam was afraid to move, to disturb it, because he knew this idyll, this little fantasy of not being alone was going to shatter into pieces the moment he did. He simply wanted to stay in it for as long as he could.

As his own breathing was starting to slow, he wondered if they perhaps could work, if Lucifer would want him in this way. Then again, even if he did, the archangel was right, this wasn’t a good idea, far from it. No matter how different the real Lucifer was from what Sam had always thought him to be, one day they could again find themselves on the opposite sides of the fence. Hell, they still were, and the physical closeness was hardly making them allies, much less friends.

On top of that, Sam doubted he was ever going to look pass all mistrust, constantly feeling as if he was going to be played. It wasn’t even about accidentally saying ‘yes’ and ending up losing his will again, at least not only. Sam knew himself well enough to understand how deeply he could end up trusting Lucifer and hurt himself in the process. The archangel might not even mean it, and Sam could end up manipulated into bad situations because of this trust.

Cold shiver ran down Sam’s spine as he realized he messed up again. And he dared to blame his brother for thinking with his libido and not his brain. What a hypocrite.

As he thought about it, Lucifer rolled off of him, yet he didn’t move far. He laid next to Sam on his side, looking at the hunter with a mix of tenderness and cold apathy, which Sam had no idea could exist in the same expression at the same. “I assume we, again, are not going to talk about it, and pretend it didn't happen?”

Sam didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, bringing his palms to rub his tired face.

They laid quietly for some time after that, much closer to each-other than before. Their hips were touching, and one of Lucifer’s toes rubbed slowly against Sam’s foot, but this time Sam didn’t mind it, even found it comforting.

“This is my fault too,” Lucifer said quietly, and Sam almost bulged his eyes, because he didn’t expect something like that to come out the archangel’s mouth. “The first time it happened, my angelic control was stripped from me. This time I had no excuses.”

Sam scoffed, finding himself smiling despite own apathy. “I guess I’m difficult to resist.” 

With Lucifer’s sense of humor, he expected him to laugh it off, but his expression was serious, which made Sam really unsure about anything in this world, including own sanity.

“You are,” he agreed simply.

The archangel’s words made Sam shiver, and he felt small and uncertain, wishing again he could disappear and not deal with the aftermath of own stupidity. 

“Sam, you think too much, that can’t be healthy,” he heard the archangel speak again.

The hunter wanted to deny it, or ask whether or not Lucifer was reading the his mind, but something in the archangel’s expression changed, a frown appeared on his face.

“I have to go,” he said and turned around starting to get up from the bed.

Sam had to mentally slap himself from reaching out, from trying to stop him, because no matter his own messed up, confused mind he was still hoping something could change between them, that they still could build something out of nothing.

“Yeah, ok,” he replied with a nod, even if he wanted to scream at him not to go, too afraid to find himself alone in an empty room again.

Lucifer was dressing in a human way, picking his clothes and putting them on one by one. Sam knew he could do it in a snap of a finger, but he was taking the slow route, making the hunter wonder if he also had no desire to leave.

And all the time Sam was watching him, gazing at the lines of his body, noting little things like a slightly rounded belly, that he actually found himself not minding at all. All that time he was groaning inwardly and trying to suppress the desire to stand up and wrap his hands around him, find out how the back of the archangel’s neck felt against his lips.

When Lucifer finished, Sam saw shadows of his wings on a wall. He fully expected the archangel to fly away without as much as saying a word, but the last moment Lucifer turned to look at him. 

“Pray if you need me,” he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing to do. Perhaps he did it out of politeness, perhaps there was a promise in his words, Sam didn’t know.

“Yeah, ok,” he replied, knowing too well that he shouldn’t, but understanding immediately he would end up doing it anyway.

They looked at each other one last time and Lucifer was gone, leaving Sam alone with his fears. Yet, right before the archangel disappeared, the hunter could swear he saw him smile gently, so he held onto the memory of it, deciding to pretend everything about it was sincere. At least until the morning.


End file.
